Mauricio writes...
Story 2 - Tezuka-san, My Latter-day Brother (Part Two)
Mauricio writes...
Story 2 - Tezuka-san, My Latter-day Brother (Part Two)
(Part One)
But before the party, we had gone with Tezuka-san on a return to his origins: it was my honor to accompany him on a trip to all of the places that had marked his life. From the distant city of Takarazuka, with its gigantic theater in New York’s Radio City style, to the parks where he played as a child, the school, and then his studios in Tokyo, his private museum, his family, his home...
It was a return, a nostalgic trip he had never taken before, a moment of rest for an artist who for half a century had not stopped working.
During those days of brotherhood, we talked at great length. About our lives, our dreams, the goals we achieved, the price one pays to reach some objectives... and the future: what we could do to take advantage of the oxygen we still had at the mountain peak of professional accomplishment.
A continuation of the latter theme was to be addressed on my next trip to Japan. But when I began to make plans for that new trip, I sensed there was something strange. I was unable to speak to Tezuka-san by phone or set up a meeting with him. His secretaries, his directors gave me the most varied and polished excuses, but no concrete information.
By the time I arrived in Tokyo to meet with other business contacts, I had already given up the hope of seeing Tezuka-san. But I was surprised by an unexpected phone call from one of his assistants. Tezuka-san could meet me in the drawing room of the New-Otani Hotel that afternoon for a short visit. I thought the wording of the message somewhat strange, but I was supersatisfied at the possibility of seeing my friend again. And I went off to meet him, accompanied by an interpreter.
When I got there, I immediately saw the reason for the “mysteries.” Tezuka-san was already very ill, ravaged by cancer, enfeebled, thin. Yet a few minutes into the conversation, his appearance, which had startled and saddened me, was forgotten. His clarity, energy and will were all there, unaffected. And especially to pass on to me words of advice and guidance. He told me of problems he had with his company at certain times. And he spoke of the care I should take to avoid repetition of his mistakes at my studio.
He expressed sadness at the wave of comic books and animated cartoons full of violence that were flooding the world from Japan. And he felt partially responsible for it. After all, his productions and studios were veritable schools for thousands of Japanese cartoonists and animators. He made a point of talking about his latest productions, now more poetic and humanistic. Unlike the earlier ones.
And finally he insisted that life is not only work, as the case had been with him from the beginning. He suggested that I not enslave myself as he had done, working day and night to finish a film or a book without a thought about going home or about the family.
He regretted it. But that time was past now. He saw in me an eventual corrected continuation of the things he wanted to do. Including a co-production in which his characters would be intermingled with Monica’s Gang. As soon as his health improved a little, we would begin work on this project.
He talked...and talked... until I sensed that he needed to rest. The person accompanying him, a director of Tezuka Productions, took him back to the hospital from which he had escaped solely for our conversation.
Technology and medical expertise were not able to reverse the process. And although “Kimba” Tezuka fought forcefully, the disease won. I received the news soon after I arrived back in Brazil.
And still today, when I think of my “brother” Tezuka-san, I feel two emotions: one of sadness for his no longer being here (bringing a lump to my throat) and another of gratitude for the privilege of having known him and having received from him the energy of his knowledge and his friendship.
Mauricio de Sousa
December 29, 1996
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